


Don't Lie

by FictionAddictions23



Category: One Piece
Genre: Confessions, Developing Relationship, Dreams, Explicit Sexual Content, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, POV Multiple, Plot Twists, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-02-07 14:23:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12843054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FictionAddictions23/pseuds/FictionAddictions23
Summary: Just a silly story where Zoro has a dream about the cook that really messes with his head. It probably isn't what you think ;) Sanji certainly didn't expect it, and he especially couldn't have guessed what would happen next.





	1. Sanji's POV

**Author's Note:**

> Check out the bonus chapter from Zoro's POV to see what happens after this chapter ends! I had to change the fic's rating when I added it because, well, Zoro remembers his first time with Sanji a little more clearly than the bewildered cook ;)

The swordsman had been acting strange, and Sanji was not the only person who had noticed. The cook’s suspicions were confirmed when Nami expressed her opinion that the green-haired man seemed different—and around Sanji, specifically.

“Did something happen between you and Zoro?” she’d asked him one afternoon.

“Nothing out of the ordinary. Why do you ask, my sweet?”

“A few of the crew commented that things have been oddly quiet on the ship, and I’m pretty sure it’s because the two of you haven’t been fighting lately.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Usopp and Franky think so, since they don’t have to fix whatever the two of you usually break, but I’m getting a little concerned. It’s been almost a week, and I don’t think I’ve heard Zoro exchange so much as a word with you. He’s just been staring like he doesn’t know who you are or something,” she commented idly.

“Staring? At me? I’m sure you’re imagining things. What would that idiot have to be concerned about _me_ for?” he argued, laughing at the notion that Zoro would spare him even a thought.

“You haven’t noticed? It’s not like he’s trying to hide it,” she told him, shrugging prettily. “Oh well. I hope it blows over, whatever it is. Not having the two of you bickering all the time is so weird—it’s like the lack of tension between you is somehow creating an uncomfortable atmosphere of restlessness for the entire crew.”

“I guess I can ask him what his problem is,” Sanji told her, smiling placatingly, “but I’m sure it’s nothing. Don’t worry your pretty little head over _us,_ Nami-swan.”

The navigator rolled her eyes in exasperation, leaving him to his thoughts. The cook wanted to doubt her suggestion that Zoro was somehow preoccupied with him, but she _was_ a lady after all, so he had no choice but to heed her words and see if there was any truth to them.

Now that the issue had been brought to his attention, Sanji realized that the swordsman really _had_ been staring at him. Whenever they were in the same room, Zoro would follow his movements with a strange, contemplative expression as though the cook were a difficult puzzle that needed solving. It was definitely weird, and more than a little creepy, but Sanji was confused by the intensity of his gaze and didn’t know how he should go about bringing it up.

One time he had purposely met the green-haired man’s eyes and barked, “What? You got something to say, shitty-swordsman?”, which usually would have pissed him off and inevitably started a fight. Instead, Zoro had just frowned at him, his brow furrowing in concentration as he continued to scrutinize the cook with unabashed attentiveness, and Sanji had stormed off in annoyed confusion.

On a different occasion, the blond lost his patience with demanding answers from the swordsman, who never deigned to answer him with a single word, let alone one of his typical insults, so he had simply waited to see if the bastard would eventually stop. On the contrary, Zoro had taken advantage of the opportunity and spent a good fifteen minutes staring, and frowning, and even muttering to himself as he looked at the cook.

It was beginning to concern Sanji, too. _Did I piss him off somehow? No, that can’t be it—we’re always mad at each other for something. This is different…_ he thought, truly bemused. There wasn’t a single reason he could think of for Zoro to have suddenly become so fixated on him. What the hell was going on in the stupid marimo’s head? His brain was probably too small to focus on more than one thing at a time, so why was he putting so much thought into _Sanji_ of all people? What did those penetrating looks _mean?_

It was honestly driving the cook crazy wondering about it, which was ridiculous since Zoro was the one who seemed to have sort of problem with him. He even asked the beautiful Robin-chan for her advice, hoping that his highly observant crewmate might have some insight into the matter, but her answer only confused him even more.

“Swordsman-san seems rather frustrated, don’t you think?” she’d asked him with that strange, secretive smile of hers.

“But why? I don’t understand what could have changed, and the idiot refuses to talk to me about it. When he isn’t glaring at me, he’s avoiding me. It’s so fucking childish! Oh—pardon the vulgar language, my darling. It seems I’m a little out of my mind. _I’m_ more frustrated than he is!” Sanji told her irately. She giggled and looked at him in open mirth, her beautiful lips quirking into a sly grin.

“I wonder if you’re feeling the same sort of _frustration_ as Zoro,” she mused with a purposeful look that went right over the cook’s head. It wasn’t until much later, when he was lying awake and thinking about how he should handle the strange tension that had developed between him and the swordsman, that her words came back to him, and he suddenly realized that there might have been a double meaning.

 _Impossible,_ he growled inwardly, his face growing warm at the notion. _What the hell am I even thinking? Robin-chan would never suggest something so lewd—especially not about that sexless sword-freak._

No, it didn’t make sense for her to have been insinuating _that_ , and besides, even if that were true, and the mature lady’s feminine perceptions had led her to assume that their crewmate was experiencing some sort of sexual deficiency, then why in God’s name would he be acting strange around Sanji?

He wanted to laugh at himself for even thinking it, it was so ludicrous. Even so, he couldn’t help but shake the feeling that Robin’s intentional slyness had been hinting at something of that nature despite the fact that, true or not, it seemed irrelevant to the current issue. He decided to bury the silly idea in the back of his mind and try a new approach.

He was going to _force_ that idiot to talk whether he liked it or not.

The next night, he waited until the rest of the crew had gone to sleep before cornering Zoro in the one place that he knew the marimo wouldn’t be able to escape him easily—the crow’s nest. Sanji was careful to climb up to the trapdoor as quietly as possible and make a quick entry, slamming it closed behind him and locking it before the swordsman even had a chance to look up from his workout.

“What the—get the fuck out of here, curly. I don’t have time for you,” he snapped rudely, averting his gaze as Sanji approached where he was sitting on the bench with long, deliberate strides. The cook immediately noticed the familiar way that Zoro had recently started bristling in agitation at his very presence, like a cat sensing another feline that it wanted desperately to leave it alone.

“Why are you tensing up like you think I’m gonna attack you or something? This bullshit attitude of yours is getting real old. Are you gonna tell me how that stick got up your ass, or what? I’m getting tired of looking at your stupid face,” he jeered, pausing a few feet away from the other man to square up for the inevitable bloodbath that was about to happen if the swordsman didn’t hurry up and explain himself.

Something flashed in the other man’s eyes at the cook’s last words and he tossed his weights aside with an exasperated growl. “God dammit—I can’t fucking stand this!” he muttered angrily, pressing the backs of his palms to his eyes and clutching his head like he was trying to hold in his sanity.

“I swear I’m going to smash your skull in if you keep being so cryptic! What exactly is it about me that you suddenly can’t stand? I’m no different than I have been since I joined the crew, moron. You’re acting insane,” he accused, fuming.

Zoro dropped his hands into his lap, seeming defeated as he stared down at the floor, his eyes blank and glazed over. “That must be it. There’s no other explanation,” he said distractedly.

Sanji felt the tiniest hint of trepidation at that admission. What was the stupid-swordsman talking about? He couldn’t really think he was insane. What could have created such intense turmoil in the other man that _Sanji_ could possibly be responsible for?

“Just leave me alone, Cook. I don’t want to look at your face either—anything but that,” he stated imploringly, bringing Sanji’s blood to a sudden boil.

“What’s that supposed to mean, asshole?! ‘Anything but that?’ All you’ve been doing for the past week is staring at me like a weirdo, and now you’re saying you can’t even look at me when I’m talking to you?”

“I…really can’t. It’s driving me crazy. I’m gonna have to leave the crew,” he said despairingly, turning his face towards the ceiling as if he could see right through it into the sky and beyond.

“Leave the—I’m serious, bastard, you’d better tell me what the hell is going on _right now.”_

The look on the other man’s face was so traumatized that Sanji’s anger melted away and was replaced by sharp concern for his crewmate’s apparent distress. Something seriously _was_ bothering him, and it couldn’t be something insignificant if he was saying that he’d have to leave the crew. For a moment, Robin’s words invaded his thoughts again, daring him to believe for even a moment that the cause of Zoro’s frustration was related to an inappropriate desire for him.

 _There’s no way,_ Sanji told himself again, terrified to even consider it. The swordsman knew that he was unequivocally a ladies’ man through-and-through. Something like that would send the balance between them spiralling out of control. It was unthinkable—disastrous to imagine—so completely mind-boggling to comprehend that Sanji was sure he would have absolute no idea how to handle it. He wouldn’t be able to just let the other man down easy and go on like nothing had happened, because he would always _know._ They would both always know, and Zoro was not the sort of person who could outgrow feelings like that. He was an all-or-nothing kind of guy who either didn’t feel anything or felt things intensely.

Sanji might joke about the other man being an unemotional rock with the sexual prowess of a wet blanket, but that was only because he knew that Zoro didn’t care about things unless there was a significant reason to. He had never imagined the taciturn swordsman experiencing passion, since it would likely take more than any normal person could give to move the unmovable.

 _Wait, wait, wait, I’m getting way ahead of myself. I’m not_ that _conceited—there’s no reason for me to believe I could ever get under his skin like that. I hate to think it, but Robin was probably just messing with my head. I love her to death, but she_ does _have some twisted notions of what constitutes fun._ Yes, that was all it was—his lovely lady playing mind games and trying to psyche him out.  

“Okay…I know this isn’t how we usually do things, but let’s call a truce for a minute, eh?” Sanji said finally, transitioning into a serious tone to indicate that they could actually talk to each other like normal people for once. “You’re really torn up about whatever this is, so just tell me what’s the matter, and we’ll never speak of it again,” he offered, prompting Zoro to look at him like he’d spontaneously grown a second head.

“Holy shit—you had a heart all along, Cook. Who knew?” he asked wryly, cracking a smug smile that made the blond instantly flush an angry red.

“Fuck off, man. Even if I act like I want to kill you half of the time, I’m still your nakama. What kind of pirate would I be if that didn’t come first?” he asked sincerely.

“Wow. Now I _definitely_ know I’m insane, because I actually appreciate you saying that,” Zoro replied in genuine bewilderment.

“Save it—just tell me why you’ve been so weird lately,” Sanji repeated, supressing the desire to hold his breath in anticipation.

The swordsman sighed heavily, seeming to come to a decision. “Alright,” he began uncomfortably, “but don’t laugh.”

The cook waited patiently while the other man collected himself, feigning nonchalance even though he was secretly panicking inside. He really wasn’t good at this sort of thing, or at least, not with men. He’d spent most of his life living on the Baratie with a bunch of tough-ass ex-pirates who had the emotional range of a teaspoon, so it was no wonder that he’d never learned to talk about _feelings._ It wasn’t necessarily a gender thing, either—he just personally didn’t have any conception of the rules outside of the context of women when it came to emotional bonding. Men typically bonded in more physical ways.

The thought immediately made his heartrate spike. _Damn my perverted mind,_ he thought woefully. _Why the hell am I still thinking about that? He isn’t going to say that he’s attracted to me—I’m just getting all worked up because of what Robin said,_ he rationalized, pausing to light a cigarette to hide his nervous gestures.

“About a week ago…I had this dream,” Zoro started finally, instantly capturing the cook’s attention. “It was so weird—I haven’t been able to get it out of my head,” he explained, sending Sanji’s thoughts into a frenzy.

 _Holy shit—a dream? W-what kind of dream?!_ he wondered, unable to prevent his mind from jumping to an obvious conclusion given his perverted train of thought. “You mean, like, about me?” he asked hesitantly, paling when Zoro gave a curt nod. _Oh, fuck._

“It really messed me up. I feel like I don’t even know who I am anymore,” he lamented, drifting off into silent contemplation.

Sanji’s knees suddenly felt weak and he had to sit down, dropping into the vacant spot beside the other man. He wished his legs hadn’t chosen this moment to give out on him, because it would’ve been nice to just be an asshole and high-tail it out of there before Zoro said anything more—but no, he couldn’t do that. Nakama _did_ come first. He had to see this conversation through.

“Okay…” he said slowly, choosing his words carefully. “Can you tell me what it was about, or was it…you know…?” he trailed off awkwardly and kept staring straight ahead when he felt the other man stiffen beside him. Zoro made a strangled noise of surprise, obviously understanding what the cook was implying.

“What the _hell?_ N-no! Jesus—not everybody is a fucking pervert like you, Cook,” he stuttered, cheeks flushing crimson.

“Are you sure? ‘Cuz I didn’t even finish my sentence and you knew exactly what I was talking about,” he teased, hoping that humor could disguise the flood of conflicting emotions that overwhelmed him. It was a confusing mixture of relief, embarrassing, and a distinct sense of disappointment that shocked him into silence. He wondered if he was a narcissist, because he definitely shouldn’t be feeling disappointed that Zoro _hadn’t_ just confirmed his suspicions.

“It wasn’t like that, idiot. It started off completely normal—everybody was on the ship doing what we usually do, but then you came out of the galley with drinks for each of us, and…”

“And what?” Sanji pressed with bated breath.

“You were too far away for me to notice it at first, but then you walked over to hand Luffy and I the glasses, and the normalcy just… _shattered._ ”

He paused again, running his fingers through his short hair in distress as if recalling the scene was even more traumatizing than he remembered. “It was like realizing that nothing was the same even though everything else was familiar…God, it was so _wrong._ ”

“What was wrong? Just spit it out already, marimo!”

“Your eyebrow…” he said distantly.

“My…what?”

“It was… _normal._ ”

“…”

“…”

“EXCUSE ME?!” Sanji exploded, completely thrown.

“It was the most horrifying thing I’ve ever seen—it was so disturbing that I woke up in shock, and I can’t stop picturing it no matter what I do.”

“Are you fucking _kidding me_ right now?! _That’s_ what you’ve been stressing over this whole time?! My bloody EYEBROWS? I will seriously _murder you_ for doing this to me!” Sanji raged, nearly tearing his hair out as he grabbed at in in frustration.

“That wasn’t the worst part, though.”

“What, did you look in the mirror and see that your goddamn hair was normal, too, _moss-head?”_

“No, I woke up from the dream, remember? I swear it felt like I was being haunted by the image. It made me realize…fuck…”

“I hope you weren’t in the middle of a tough workout because I’m going to kick your goddamn ass all over this room in a minute, and I seriously might kill you if you don’t fight me with every once of your strength,” Sanji told him dangerously, still seething with rage.

“You don’t understand. I can never unsee it, and now I know that I…I actually…prefer it curly,” he admitted, so quietly that it was almost a whisper.

 “You weren’t fucking joking—you’re actually insane. We’re gonna have to put you in a straitjacket and lock you in the brig.”

“It’s a big deal, alright?”

“But _why?_ Who fucking cares?!”

“I do! It’s my favourite thing to insult, and now I don’t even have that. I’ve been shit-talking it for years, but at some point I must've gotten used to how you look or something. I can’t accept that.”

“Do you seriously have nothing better to do than obsess over my goddamn eyebrows? No, you know what? I’m _glad_ that you’re suffering over something so utterly stupid. Have you ever even thought that maybe I already had a complex about it and you’ve been a _huge fucking asshole?!”_ Sanji yelled, surprising the other man with the force of his words.

“I…I guess I _hadn’t_ thought about that. Does it really bother you that much?”

“YES. I hate you _so much_ right now that I can taste bile!”

“Oh. Well, I’m sorry—”

“Fuck off! I don’t know why I was even worried about you. Do you have any idea how ridiculous this is? I actually thought that something serious was going on, and then you had to give me a bloody heart-attack talking about weird dreams, and it was all because of my _eyebrows?!”_

Zoro just watched him rant in silence, seeming all the more conflicted now that Sanji knew what had been the cause of his strange behaviour. The cook threw his cigarette butt against the far wall with a violent toss, scowling angrily at the bastard. He couldn’t _believe_ that he had come up here to clear the air between them only to be insulted again. It was bad enough that the other man constantly teased him about something that was admittedly one of his biggest insecurities, and now he was essentially saying that his hatred for the cook’s unfortunate genetic trait had been a defining aspect of his identity.

Sanji contemplated kicking the swordsman—he even briefly considered punching him, which would be the first time he’d used his hands for violence since he was a little kid—but there was one thing that he was sure would be an even greater act of revenge. Slowly his racing heart calmed down, and he was able to think rationally about it. It would be the first time since as far back as he could remember, and he was definitely hesitant to bare his insecurity so openly, but it would be _so_ worth it.

He waited until Zoro met his gaze searchingly—probably wondering why the cook was suddenly so quiet after his angry outburst—and then he took one hand and very deliberately ran his fingers up and over his forehead to push the blond fringe of hair back and expose his entire face to the other man.

Whatever Zoro had been expecting, it was certainly not that. His eyes widened in surprise, locking onto the unbelievable view in front of him as if he couldn’t comprehend that the cook really had a second eye and spiraling eyebrow under there. Sanji had anticipated an angry reaction from the other man, or perhaps an exclamation of frustration over being forced to look at what he apparently hated so much and was now extremely conflicted over, but he had _not_ expected the other man to stare at him with unmistakable awe as though he'd just been given a precious gift, which he sort of had considering that Sanji had never shown that half of his face to anyone.

Instead of feeling like he had just gotten revenge, the blond recognized the telltale blush that covered the swordsman’s cheeks and felt his own face reddening in response. He was acutely aware of the fact that Zoro was drinking in the image of his face like it was a precious secret, and not only that—he was observing it with the distinct expression of someone who undoubtedly appreciated what he saw. Sanji felt a sudden pang of delight when he realized that the swordsman actually liked the way his face looked—he had never been able to bring himself to show anyone this complete part of him, because his anxiety over the genetics he had inherited from his family had always outweighed any confidence that might have allowed him to expose himself to another person so openly.

Zoro was looking at him like he was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Sanji’s heart started beating erratically, pounding so loudly in his chest that he was suddenly afraid the other man could actually hear it. Panic washed over him as he realized his own feelings in response to the swordsman’s obvious approval—he was actually _glad_ that Zoro seemed to find him attractive. He remembered the earlier twinge of disappointment when he thought that he’d been wrong about his crewmate’s feelings, and suddenly Sanji wanted to escape the situation more badly than ever.

It was one thing for the swordsman to state that he couldn’t accept his preference for the blond man’s curly eyebrows, but the cook was about ready to have a conniption at the notion that he might actually _want_ Zoro’s attention and was happy to discover that he might've been worrying needlessly over his appearance all these years. _This can’t be happening,_ he told himself in complete denial. _There’s no way I care what that idiot-swordsman thinks about me—I can’t accept that kind of interest from a man. I’m Sanji fucking Blackleg—I only care about the ladies,_ he reminded himself.

All of this went through the cook’s head before the swordsman uttered his automatic response, which turned out to be a half-breathless exclamation of, “ _Holy shit…_ ” The sound of Zoro’s deep voice seemed to pierce Sanji’s skin right down to his bones, making the cook shiver unconsciously, his face flaming. He sucked in a quick breath and held it, frozen under the swordsman’s penetrating gaze. The panic inside him swelled as he desperately tried to understand what was happening to them. It quickly overwhelmed him, and he made a move to instinctively drop his hair fringe back into place, longing for the safe familiarity of the blond curtain protecting him from the other man’s eyes.

“Wait!” Zoro said sharply, catching his hand on its decent to prevent him from covering his face again. Sanji jumped at the unexpected feeling of Zoro’s fingers sliding into his hair to hold it in place, his palm resting over the cook’s trembling hand, soothing it into stillness. He felt lightheaded and had to release the breath he’d been holding in a stuttering gasp to keep his lungs functioning.

“S-sorry,” Zoro told him, seeming embarrassed. “I just…”

Sanji looked at him like a deer in the headlights, his words caught in his throat. He wanted to toss some sort of insult or clever comeback at the other man and make fun of him for his unwanted touch, but it wasn’t necessarily unwelcome, and that fact blew the cook’s mind for a second time. He found himself dropping the hand that had been resting under Zoro’s so he could feel the swordsman’s heat at his scalp, letting him slide his fingers deeper into the roots of his hair to anchor it away from his face.

Sanji couldn’t stop staring at the other man, either. Their eyes had locked like it was some sort of competition, and neither of them seemed willing to lose by breaking the gaze first. It was strange seeing the swordsman without the obstruction of his own hair. His face seemed somehow clearer, brighter—although, that could have been a trick of his mind. He’d never had difficulties seeing before since he’d always had to look through that blond curtain, so it was second nature to him, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was seeing Zoro differently anyway.

Finally, he found his voice and was able to comment on the other man’s strange behaviour. “Oi, you’re not supposed to _like_ this,” he complained instantly, remembering his previous intent on revenge.

Zoro’s blush deepened, and he immediately tried to deny it. “I—I don’t! I’m just relieved that you weren’t hiding a normal eyebrow under there after all. That would’ve been even more ridiculous than them both being curly,” he reasoned, though he didn’t look away or mask the obvious expression of wonder on his face.

The cook’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, anger and annoyance spiking in him sharply. “Don’t fucking lie to me,” he growled, inexplicably hurt.

Zoro’s eyes widened impossibly larger at the pissed off cook’s retort, and he slowly retracted his hand, though Sanji’s hair remained swept back over his forehead. The swordsman mirrored his frown, seeming a little guilty about his automatic insult.

“No…you’re right. That was rude of me. I don’t—I mean, I like them, okay?”

“Just the eyebrows?” Sanji inquired wryly with a knowing smirk, causing the swordsman to finally break their gaze.

Zoro was trying so hard to look anywhere but at him, yet his eyes kept flitting back to the cook’s exposed face almost as if he were shy. It was so completely out of character for the restrained swordsman to be this visibly affected that Sanji wanted to laugh in pleasant disbelief.

“They look fine. You…look good…I guess,” he got out lamely, rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. “How the hell does your hair stay so perfect, though? You shouldn’t be able to just rearrange it however and just have it mold into that shape. _That’s_ the weirdest part,” he rambled awkwardly, glancing away again when Sanji cracked an amused grin.

“You’re such an idiot,” he remarked, surprising himself with the fondness in his voice, which caused the swordsman to frown at him adorably.

 _Fuck no—this is_ Zoro _I’m thinking about! He isn’t adorable—that’s impossible,_ he told himself while casually replying, “Thanks…I guess.”

“…You’re welcome.”

They kept looking at each other, neither of them able to find the words that would end whatever this was and return them to their usual exchange of insults and banter. Sanji honestly didn’t want the moment to end so quickly because it was kind of a nice to not have to focus on constantly one-upping the swordsman or insulting him when he didn’t have a better comeback. He’d never thought about how mentally tiring it was—always being on edge around the other man and exercising all of that brainpower…and for what? So they could keep up this pointless rivalry between them?

Suddenly, it was clear to the cook that it _was_ pointless. Sure, maybe it benefited them to test themselves against the other’s strength and wit, but that could just as easily be done if they were friends. Instead, they’d fallen into a routine where it had become so natural to behave like enemies that, before they’d known it, there was seemingly no going back. This conversation had just proved that their entire relationship, founded in needless jealousy and machismo, was based off of the assumption that it was necessary to disregard the underlying admiration that existed between them. No wonder Zoro had been shocked by Sanji showing open concern for him—they were both so used to pretending they _didn’t_ care that they’d forgotten what it meant to be nakama.   

The cook knew he was onto something, but even that didn’t completely explain what was happening between him and the swordsman. There was something else in the beating of his heart, the fluttering in his stomach, and the heat spreading through his body, that indicated the development of something more personal. Zoro seemed to be thinking about it as well, his brow furrowed in concentration as he attempted to understand the growing tension, and then his eyes slid to Sanji’s lips and paused there. _Fuck, I know what it is,_ the cook thought, his head spinning at the sudden compulsion that filled him. _Robin really is a genius._

He cut off his own thoughts, shutting down his brain for the moment. Zoro was leaning toward him, ever so slightly, with his eyes still trained on the cook’s mouth like he was in some sort of trance. Neither of them were thinking anymore—it was just _happening_ , and Sanji didn’t think either of them could have stopped it if they’d tried. If he’d been thinking then he would have realized that he didn’t even want to stop it. He remained completely still as the swordsman’s lips approached him, and then suddenly they were kissing.

Something broke inside him, and whatever was let out consumed them both immediately. His mouth parted on instinct as the rest of him opened up to the swordsman, seeking the other man’s heat. Warmth filled his entire body as if he’d swallowed it. Zoro’s heat was pressed against his lips, the only place where they touched, but he felt it in every inch of himself—raising every hair, shaking every muscle, and spreading to the tip of every appendage.

They kissed wildly—restraint a thing of the past—until Sanji swore he was on fire. Suddenly Zoro’s hands were back in his hair, and the heat seemed to increase tenfold. Their knees knocked together on the bench—vaguely Sanji realized that they’d both turned toward the other, though he couldn’t remember either of them moving a leg to the other side—and then his hands were on Zoro’s biceps, pulling the other man closer.

He didn’t remember them leaving the bench, but the next time he looked up, gasping at the feeling of the other man’s mouth against his throat—kissing, biting, sucking at random intervals—they were on the floor of the crow’s nest with considerably less clothing. His memory of the next however many minutes (hours?) was fragmented into a slideshow of highlights.

Zoro’s hands firmly gripping his waist, his tongue wetting the skin of Sanji’s chest, stomach, thighs. Fingers digging into muscle, his own as well as the swordsman’s, sliding through silky hair. Zoro’s hair had been surprisingly soft and easy to grab. He remembered the taste of his lips, his throat, his cock, although the latter was completely unexpected and foreign to him. The swordsman’s lips on _his_ cock had nearly blinded him, torn him apart at the seams, and scattered the pieces to the wind.

Friction—more heat—sweat and sliding skin against skin. And oh _God_ the suction—a welcomed distraction to the fingers slipping into places he would never have expected to allow entry. New and exciting places that only Zoro would see, touch, feel—he screamed the first time he felt delicious pressure against the secret part of him that wanted this _so badly._ Legs quivering, toes curling, and chests heaving at the effort of containing all of the sensations—they burst out of him anyway in the form of gasps, and moans, and more screams. Zoro kissed him whenever he could, until their lips were both swollen. Sanji left bloody trails on the swordsman’s skin from the unconscious dragging of his fingernails over the man’s broad back.

Shivering pleasure was a good way to describe it all—shivering pleasure that ended in an explosion of heat, bone-deep satisfaction, and wetness. Zoro’s heat remained in him for some time after, and then the two of them just melted into the deck, a mess of tangled, sticky limbs and aftershocks. Amazingly, Sanji’s hair stayed pushed back from his face, and when it _had_ shifted, Zoro had held it in place with strong yet gentle fingers. The cook’s eyes had never seen the world quite like they had that night, even though he’d only experienced such perfect clarity with the inside of the crow’s nest, a few small patches of sky, and Zoro in his sights.

The cook felt like crying and laughing. His brain rebooted slowly, spitting conflicting thoughts that sent his mind whirling as he tried to understand what had happened. He had just experienced something amazing—he had royally fucked up—he wanted to do it again—he was never going to be the same—it was a horrible, horrible mistake—he wouldn’t trade it for the most beautiful woman in the world—he needed a woman—he needed the swordsman beside him—he felt hungry—he didn’t want to leave the circle of this man’s arms—he wanted to sleep forever—he loved the sound of Zoro's heart beating hard in his chest. There were so many feelings to work through that he wanted to just shut his mind off to procrastinate dealing with them.

“Oi, cook…what the hell?” Zoro said to him after an immeasurable period of contemplative silence. “I never would have expected you to _like_ that,” he commented, echoing the other man’s earlier words of surprised disbelief.

Sanji sucked in a breath, prepared to deny it. Zoro would understand. That was how they worked, after all. The blond couldn’t admit to enjoying this even if it was obvious that he had—his pride wouldn’t allow it. He should tell the swordsman that it had been completely spontaneous—an experiment that had gone a little too far. He could say that he regretted it, but thanks anyway, he’d had worse sex before. The cook opened his mouth with a compilation of these excuses on the tip of his tongue until Zoro squeezed him slightly in the embrace they shared, whispering two heart-wrenching words into his ear.

“Don’t lie.”

And Sanji knew that he couldn’t—not even to himself. 

****

** **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lovely drawing is by Excel-K on Deviant Art. Find more wonderful fanart here :)  
> https://excel-k.deviantart.com/art/Zoro-and-Sanji-216540565


	2. Zoro's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanji spent a lot of time trying to figure out what was going on in Zoro's head, so here it is :) MARIMO POV! :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't usually pay much attention to the perspectives I'm using when writing, so for this fic I tried to explore both characters' thoughts without mixing the two. I hope you enjoy these two versions of the story! Thank you so much for reading!

“Hey, Zoro….Zoro! Nngh, you sleep too much—I wanna play with my first mate!” Luffy shouted as he bounded across the deck of the Sunny to interrupt the swordsman’s regularly scheduled nap.

“I don’t think pirates should be ‘playing’, Captain. We aren’t children—although, I suppose I might be maturing you in my mind to make myself feel better about following some kid’s orders.”

“That’s so mean! I’m not a kid!”

“Are you sure?” Usopp cut in. “Because even _I_ have more chest hair than you.”

“We’re the same age, dummy!”

“Having hair on your chest means you’re more grown up?!” Chopper asked excitedly, eyes sparkling.

“Careful, Captain-san, or you might lose your position to the alpha-reindeer.”

“Robin’s right. If you’re gonna measure maturity by that standard, then our furry doctor here is definitely the manliest man, or rather, reindeer,” Zoro commented good-naturedly.

“Saying that won’t make me happy, you jerk!” Chopper giggled, swaying joyfully on the spot. 

“Chest hair is the deciding factor? Hmm….I’m older than all of you in years, but I am unfortunately lacking both hair _and_ a chest! Yohohohohohoho!”

“I’d point out the obvious fact that you have an entire _afro_ on your head, but this is the dumbest conversation you idiots have had today, and I don’t want to be any part of it,” Nami commented from her lounge chair. “You shouldn’t encourage them, Robin. Otherwise, they’ll never grow up.”

“Butt out, Nami! I’m gonna be King of the Pirates no matter what—even if I’m totally bald, I’ll still conquer the Grand Line and be super manly doing it!”

“You tell ‘em, Luffy! Size or substance doesn’t make the man—men are manly because they have FIGHTING SPIRIT!” Franky shouted emphatically, freezing in a ridiculous pose.

“FIGHTING SPIRIT!”

“YEAH!”

“Eventually I’m going to lose all respect for you people,” Nami lamented, glancing towards the galley door with a sigh. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Sanji-kun is the manliest as far as I’m concerned—he’s the only one who isn’t participating in this nonsense.”

As if the mere mention of his name on a beautiful lady’s lips had somehow summoned the cook telepathically, Sanji burst out of the kitchen with a beaming smile so wide that Zoro swore he caught some glare off of the other man’s teeth from across the deck.

“Did I just hear my lovely mellorine compliment the _only_ gentleman on this ship? Oh, sorry Brook— _living_ gentleman,” he corrected.

“No offense taken. I don’t believe that a person must necessarily be alive in order to be called a gentleman. All it takes is a manly soul!” the musician announced with an accompanying riff on his electric guitar.

“I know how we can decide who’s the manliest!” Luffy told them excitedly. “EATING CONTEST!”

“Absolutely not,” Sanji interrupted, making his way to their gluttonous captain with a tray of drinks balanced on one hand. “I made these to keep everyone hydrated until dinner, and I am _not_ going to slave away in the kitchen to make extra food for the bottomless pits who I have the misfortune of living with.”

“You don’t like living with us, Sanji?” Chopper asked him tearfully, though his tears seemed to magically evaporate once the cook handed him his own sugary beverage. Luffy was already halfway through slurping his down, and the satisfied sound made Zoro’s own mouth feel dry. The swordsman looked to Sanji as he approached with the final drinking glass, and time seemed to stop.

What. The actual. Fuck.

 _Wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong—_ the word streamed continuously into Zoro’s mind until his entire body became permeated with the distinct sense that he was not experiencing reality. This assumption proved true when Zoro’s focus shifted entirely to the cook’s face like the zooming of a camera lens—everyone and everything else in the vicinity melted away with the background, leaving nothing but Sanji. The swordsman did a sort of mental double-take, his mind scrambling until there was only one detail that he could grasp.

_His eyebrow is—_

He shot up in bed before he could complete the thought, blinking away the horrifying after-image of the cook’s visible eye framed by an offensively normal blond curve in place of his usual curly eyebrow. Zoro felt an actual shiver run down his back, which was sticking to his t-shirt because of the cold sweat that had broken out when he’d been wrenched from the relatively ordinary dream about the Straw Hats’ daily antics.

His gaze immediately flitted to Sanji, who was fast asleep in his own bunk. It had always amazed the swordsman to see how the cook’s hair seemed to magically remain in place, regardless of whether he was sleeping, fighting, or even _swimming_ for God’s sake. The hairstyle was an affront to physics and logic, but it wasn’t the main thing that concerned the swordsman.

The problem was Sanji’s curly eyebrow itself, which Zoro had always considered to be the most ridiculous aspect about him. Hell, rarely a day went by when he _didn’t_ bring it up during their many arguments. In fact, he would go so far as to call it the epitome of everything he hated about the cook. All of his annoying personality quirks and the various frustrations caused by his eccentricities—it was all represented by the singular detail that stood out among Sanji’s admittedly handsome features as the only noticeable “flaw”.

The actual problem _,_ in other words, was that Zoro’s dream had quite forcefully destroyed his current perception of the cook, revealing the utter denial that he’d been living in since the blond had joined the crew. It was probably the silliest thing on which the swordsman could’ve based his opinion, but it was the _only_ thing that allowed him to believe he didn’t find the other man attractive because even if Sanji were perfect in every other regard, his eyebrow was indeed ridiculous enough to ruin his entire look.

Except it didn’t.

The dream proved it—Zoro had apparently come to accept the cook’s appearance even if he hadn’t done it consciously. His _sub_ conscious, on the other hand, clearly had an opinion of its own—perhaps the curly eyebrow wasn’t make it or break it after all, which meant that there was nothing left for the swordsman to cling to.

He thought that Sanji was gorgeous as fuck, regardless of what shape his eyebrows were (although he still couldn’t shake the strangeness of seeing them without the curl). _God-fucking-damnit…This is the end for me. Either he finds out and eventually kills me for it, or I slowly descend into madness knowing that I actually want to—_

He cut his own thoughts short, launching out of his hammock to escape the room before he caught another glimpse of his crewmate’s sleeping face. If he’d thought he could hide in the crow’s nest and train all day without having to face the thoughts that were constantly occupying the back of his mind, then he was as stupid as the cook said he was.

They didn’t go away, and he by no means forgot about his world-changing realization, but he was at least able to avoid the blond for the first few days until _somebody_ (probably that damn meddling sea-witch) went and tipped him off about the swordsman’s musings.

“What? You got something to say, shitty-swordsman?” Sanji barked at him one afternoon.

Zoro felt his entire body go tense, but he didn’t move from his current position, which was at the base of the mast watching Sanji’s movements unabashedly. He knew that the cook was onto him, and he didn’t see the point in hiding it when the other man had already figured out that Zoro was thinking about him. He also knew that Sanji had no idea what he was thinking _about,_ which gave the swordsman a great deal of satisfaction because then he wouldn’t be the only one suffering, and it would likely piss the cook off even more than if he knew.

He chose not to reply at all, and Sanji eventually stormed away with his hands in the air. He didn’t see the swordsman smile at his frustrated gesture, but Robin happened to be passing by in time to catch the fond expression. “Don’t look at me like that,” he grumbled, avoiding her sly grin. “He’s just…”

She raised her eyebrows when he trailed off, making her way to the nearest chair on the deck. “Must the two of you always chase each other like cat and mouse?” she asked him in mild exasperation.

“Excuse me?”

“You and Cook-san are constantly playing this childish game—did you think nobody had noticed?”

“I don’t know what you think you’re seeing, but whatever it is, _he_ hasn’t noticed, so don’t make a thing out of it.”

“That sounds like you’re admitting there’s something to be seen,” she pointed out, which he knew he couldn’t even deny—he _was_ being incredibly obvious.

“Whatever. We all live on one ship—it’s too difficult to hide every moment of introspection, and what do I care if you notice? It’s nothing,” he told her defiantly.

“Not that you asked for my opinion, but I think you should tell Sanji whatever’s on your mind. It looks like he’s already getting antsy without your usual interactions to expend some of that wonderful energy.”

“‘Wonderful energy?’” he repeated amusedly. “That’s a nice way of putting it. You mean that he’s loud, obnoxious, totally neurotic and narcissistic, a hopeless romantic, and an insufferable show-boating know-it-all. Let me sum that up with the phrase _batshit crazy_.”

“Crazier than yourself?”

“…Should I be offended by that?”

“I don’t think so. The two of you are amazing men, each with your own unique personalities and skillsets…I think you see yourself in Sanji-kun.”

“Please find a better way to phrase that,” he told her stiffly, causing Robin to raise her eyebrows and let out an amused giggle.

“I’ll pretend I don’t understand what you mean. What I was getting at is that those qualities that you’re so quick to demerit could also be considered evidence of Sanji’s confidence, his determination, and the personal insecurities that he struggles to overcome in order to achieve his dreams. I’m sure you understand that no one is perfect. We must all help each other.”

“I’m not sure what you want me to say to that. Nothing’s gonna help this situation, Robin. It’s best to wait for it to blow over. I just need some time to reorient myself and learn to hate him again.”

“I can’t give you an answer, but I will say that I think it’s in everyone’s best interest if our strongest fighters are able to cooperate. Who knows how it could affect the crew if the two of you aren’t able to work well together? Even if you choose to keep these particular thoughts to yourself, please don’t shy away from confrontation—you know it’ll happen sooner or later.”

“Tch. Only because _he_ doesn’t know when to leave well enough alone.”

“Then be sure to face the inevitable conversation head-on and with civility,” she suggested, pausing as she stood from the chair. “Oh, and one more thing…listen carefully whenever you speak to Mr. Cook. I think you’ll be surprised if you try to understand him instead of assuming that any conversation between the two of you will be a hostile one.”

“Gee, thanks for the advice. I’ll keep that in mind the next time his foot his crushing my sternum.”

“Trust me on this. Us women know a thing or two about…friendly relations,” she told him sweetly, leaving him with the rather obvious innuendo.

Surprisingly, it didn’t bother the swordsman to hear her make jokes about it because he’d actually come to trust Robin since her arrival. The woman wasn’t mean-spirited—she thrived on secrets but wasn’t the type to gossip needlessly. If anything, he was concerned about her ability to be subtle, especially since Sanji was not a particularly dense man nor was he unlikely to miss a double-entendre considering how perverted his mind was.

Zoro didn’t have to wait long for the inevitable conversation, as Robin had put it. A few days after his talk with the archeologist, his nightly workout was interrupted by the quick entry of Sanji, who came into the crow’s nest with suspiciously quiet speed, slamming the hatch behind him. The swordsman’s heart began to thump harder in his chest when he heard the distinct sound of a lock, which he hadn’t even realize existed at that entrance.

“What the—get the fuck out of here, curly. I don’t have time for you,” he snapped, instantly regretting the response because it would only serve to irritate the other man. Sanji was not the type of person who would overlook an insult and leave without commenting on it, especially if Zoro were the one doing the insulting.

“Why are you tensing up like you think I’m going to attack you or something? This bullshit attitude of yours is getting real old. Are you gonna tell me how that stick got up your ass, or what? I’m getting tired of looking at your stupid face,” Sanji told him jeeringly, stopping a few feet from the workout bench.

Zoro paused at his words, noticing that he _was_ tense while simultaneously fighting the memory of the cook from his dream. For a split second he wanted to laugh at the irony of hearing Sanji tell him that he had a problem with the swordsman’s face when the reverse was what had caused this rift between them in the first place. Then his own frustration swelled as he realized that he would have to stare at that curly eyebrow in order to get through this conversation, which would only remind him of his unfortunate epiphany.    

He tossed his weights aside with an exasperated growl, muttering, “God dammit—I can’t fucking stand this!” The urge to avoid looking at the other man overwhelmed him, so he pressed the backs of his hands to his eyes to procrastinate having to face the blond.

“I swear I’m going to smash your skull in if you keep being so cryptic! What exactly is it about me that you suddenly can’t stand? I’m no different than I have been since I joined the crew, moron. You’re acting insane,” Sanji accused heatedly.

Zoro dropped his hands into his lap and stared down at the floor, feeling utterly hopeless because the cook was right for once—this _was_ insane, and _he_ was insane for being attracted to his crewmate at all. Okay, maybe it wasn’t totally crazy since it was undeniable that Sanji was a handsome man, but he also had what was possibly the least compatible personality to Zoro’s—and the swordsman had never believed in that stupid “opposites attract” bullshit, although the idea might have some truth to it if the other person’s differences were attractive qualities.

But _Sanji?_ The man annoyed him to no end! Even if Zoro reluctantly accepted his appreciation of the blond’s physical appearance, it was still inconceivable that he felt so affected by him after realizing that he might not actually mind the silly eyebrow. He knew that he’d just been using his initial aversion to it as a convenient reason to object to the rest of the cook’s appearance (which was admittedly rather childish of him), but he hadn’t been doing it consciously—at least, not at first.

It was akin to someone refusing to eat a chocolate bar simply because it came in a package with a design they didn’t like, but seeing it sitting on a shelf for months—knowing that it would be delicious—well, you could deny yourself a taste if you were stubborn enough, but after you got used to the packaging, and it stopped being a turn-off…who _wouldn’t_ want to eat the chocolate?

 _That was a bad analogy,_ he thought. _I don’t even like chocolate_. It was then that his traitorous brain decided to pose the question, _What if_ he _made it for you though, and you got to eat it off his—_ he cut the idea short, horrified at himself for letting his desire get so out of control that he was actually thinking in kinks. Even if that particularly kink didn’t seem too far-fetched with a skilled chef such as the blond, it was still _insane_ that Zoro would even entertain the idea of something so perverse.

“That must be it,” he said finally, agreeing with Sanji’s assessment of his mental state. “There’s no other explanation. Just leave me alone, Cook. I don’t want to look at your face either—anything but that,” he told him, not even trying to pretend like he wasn’t begging. He just wanted the other man to drop this whole thing—would that really be so hard?

“What’s that supposed to mean, asshole?! ‘Anything but that?’ All you’ve been doing for the past week is staring at me like a weirdo, and now you’re saying you can’t even look at me when I’m talking to you?” Sanji asked angrily.

Who was he kidding? This was the cook—of course that temperamental asshole would be itching for a fight. Zoro knew that his recent contemplations had baffled the blond and eventually pushed him past the point of ignoring it, but he didn’t regret being obvious because the swordsman had never been able to resist a chance to make Sanji squirm. There was something about him when he was angry that just made Zoro’s blood run hot.

 _It can’t be healthy to keep having these kinds of thoughts, especially about one of my nakama. It’s disgraceful,_ he told himself forcefully, hoping that his sense of honor could override his lack of propriety. He wondered if his feelings would eventually fade away, but something told him that it was already a lost cause. He’d never felt so drawn to a person before, and after that dream, he hadn’t been able to stop the increasingly intense urges to do unspeakable things to the other man, though he was disciplined enough to be able to resist actually trying anything like that.

Even so, he was afraid he might slip up and reveal the inappropriate feelings to the cook. Now _that_ would be a complete disaster—literally. He would be lucky to escape with all of his bones intact, and he had no illusions about the condition that the rest of him would be in if Sanji learned that he was having such thoughts. Despite having no way of knowing his reaction, Zoro couldn’t imagine that the cook was someone who would casually brush off a revelation like this, let alone be open-minded enough to accept the swordsman’s advances. He fought a wave of hopelessness, turning his face towards the ceiling and studiously avoiding looking at the cook’s face.

“I…really can’t. It’s driving me crazy. I’m gonna have to leave the crew,” Zoro said despairingly,

“Leave the—I’m serious, bastard, you’d better tell me what the hell is going on  _right now.”_

The swordsman was at a loss for words. He really, _really_ didn’t want to have this conversation, but Robin was right—he needed to address the issue with Sanji or else it could cause trouble for the entire crew if things stayed tense between them. The problem was that he just didn’t know what to _say_ —he was seriously considering just kissing the other man, if only to avoid having to vocalize his thoughts but also because of the priceless look on the other man’s face.

Sanji broke the silence with a gentler tone, seeming to have finally caught on to the seriousness of the situation. “Okay…I know this isn’t how we usually do things, but let’s call a truce for a minute, eh? You’re really torn up about whatever this is, so just tell me what’s the matter, and we’ll never speak of it again,” he offered, prompting Zoro to look at him like he’d spontaneously grown a second head.

“Holy shit—you had a heart all along, Cook. Who knew?” he asked wryly, cracking a smug smile that made the blond instantly flush an angry red.

“Fuck off, man. Even if I act like I want to kill you half of the time, I’m still your nakama. What kind of pirate would I be if that didn’t come first?” he asked sincerely.

“Wow. Now I  _definitely_ know I’m insane, because I actually appreciate you saying that,” Zoro replied in genuine bewilderment.

“Save it—just tell me why you’ve been so weird lately,” Sanji repeated, supressing the desire to hold his breath in anticipation.

The swordsman sighed heavily, finally coming to a decision. “Alright,” he began uncomfortably, “but don’t laugh.”

Despite his words, he couldn’t bring himself to immediately explain the situation, prompting Sanji to nervously light a cigarette during the stretch of silence.

“About a week ago…I had this dream,” Zoro told him finally, capturing the cook’s attention. “It was so weird—I haven’t been able to get it out of my head.”

“You mean, like, about me?” Sanji asked hesitantly.

Zoro gave a curt nod. “It really messed me up. I feel like I don’t even know who I am anymore,” he lamented, and it was true. So much of his identity within the crew had been shaped by his interactions with Sanji, who was by all intents and purposes his rival. The animosity between them fueled their respective egos, and now the swordsman’s go-to target had been compromised.

He was reliving the horrible moment when he’d seen the image of the cook without his usual curling facial hair when Sanji suddenly sat down in the vacant spot beside him on the bench. “Okay…” he began slowly. “Can you tell me what it was about, or was it…you know…?” he trailed off awkwardly, staring straight ahead when Zoro’s body immediately went stiff.

 _What the hell?_ he thought, accidentally saying this aloud while he was panicking internally. _There’s no way I was_ that _obvious! How the hell did he guess?_

“N-no! Jesus—not everybody is a fucking pervert like you, Cook,” he stuttered, cheeks flushing crimson.

“Are you sure? ‘Cuz I didn’t even finish my sentence and you knew exactly what I was talking about,” Sanji teased, prompting the swordsman to explain further.

“It wasn’t like that, idiot. It started off completely normal—everybody was on the ship doing what we usually do, but then you came out of the galley with drinks for each of us, and…”

“And what?” Sanji pressed with bated breath.

“You were too far away for me to notice it at first, but then you walked over to hand Luffy and I the glasses, and the normalcy just… _shattered._ It was like realizing that nothing was the same even though everything else was familiar. God, it was so  _wrong._ ”

“What was wrong? Just spit it out already, marimo!”

“Your eyebrow…” he said distantly.

“My…what?”

“It was… _normal._ ”

“…”

“…”

“EXCUSE ME?!” Sanji exploded.

“It was the most horrifying thing I’ve ever seen—it was so disturbing that I woke up in shock, and I can’t stop picturing it no matter what I do.”

“Are you fucking  _kidding me_ right now?!  _That’s_ what you’ve been stressing over this whole time?! My bloody EYEBROWS? I will seriously  _murder you_ for doing this to me!” Sanji raged, nearly tearing his hair out as he grabbed at in in frustration.

“That wasn’t the worst part, though.”

“What, did you look in the mirror and see that your goddamn hair was normal, too,  _moss-head?”_

“No, I woke up from the dream, remember? I swear it felt like I was being haunted by the image. It made me realize…fuck…”

“I hope you weren’t in the middle of a tough workout because I’m going to kick your goddamn ass all over this room in a minute, and I seriously might kill you if you don’t fight me with every once of your strength,” Sanji told him dangerously, still seething with rage.

“You don’t understand. I can never unsee it, and now I know that I…I actually…prefer it curly,” he admitted in a near-whisper.

 “You weren’t fucking joking—you’re actually insane. We’re gonna have to put you in a straitjacket and lock you in the brig.”

“It’s a big deal, alright?”

“But  _why?_ Who fucking cares?!”

“I do! It’s my favourite thing to insult, and now I don’t even have that. I’ve been shit-talking it for years, but at some point I must've gotten used to how you look or something. I can’t accept that.”

“Do you seriously have nothing better to do than obsess over my goddamn eyebrows? No—you know what? I’m  _glad_ that you’re suffering over something so utterly stupid. Have you ever even thought that maybe I already had a complex about it and you’ve been a  _huge fucking asshole_?!” Sanji yelled, which caused the swordsman to jerk in surprise.

“I…I guess I  _hadn’t_ thought about that. Does it really bother you that much?”

“YES. I hate you  _so much_ right now that I can taste bile!”

“Oh. Well, I’m sorry—”

“Fuck off! I don’t know why I was even worried about you. Do you have any idea how ridiculous this is? I actually thought that something serious was going on, and then you had to give me a bloody heart-attack talking about weird dreams, and it was all because of my  _eyebrows?!”_

Zoro just stared at the other man as he became increasingly more irate, which caused a sharp pang of regret in the swordsman because he hadn’t actually expected Sanji to _care_ about what the swordsman thought of him. He had never imagined that the confident cook might have a real insecurity about his appearance, and suddenly Zoro wished he could take back every petty comment he’d made about it.

Sanji threw his cigarette butt against the far wall with a violent toss, scowling angrily as they both lapsed into silence. The swordsman waited to see if he was going to continue his rant, figuring that the blond was more than entitled to be pissed off, but the silence continued to stretch until it became unbearable. Zoro forced himself to meet his nakama’s gaze, hoping that Sanji would be able to read his unspoken apology in his expression, so he was not prepared when the cook’s demeanor suddenly become resolute as he slowly reached up and ran his fingers through his hair.

Zoro felt his eyes go wide, unable to stop himself from reacting appropriately—and it _was_ appropriate because he never would’ve expected the blond to reveal the other half of his face, especially not after learning that Sanji had a complex about his appearance, and to the swordsman of all people. He immediately felt a wave of shame and unworthiness wash over him, which was quickly overwhelmed by the incredible awe at what he was witnessing.

God _damn_ was he attractive—painfully so. His face was perfectly symmetrical (except for the eyebrows, which curled in the same direction), and his eyes were just so fucking _blue_ that Zoro instantly felt like he was drowning as he looked in them. He’d never realized just how expressive Sanji’s face could be, since he was used to seeing only a fraction of it twisted into a mocking grin, or worse—his typical love-struck demeanor when in the presence of a lady.

Zoro recognized the slight hesitation in his eyes when the swordsman failed miserably at concealing his honest response to the sight, causing an embarrassed flush to creep into both of their cheeks. _Shit—he’ll figure it out,_ Zoro worried internally, shoving the thought away immediately. It was probably too late anyway. Sanji was a smart man, so there was no way he hadn’t realized that Zoro found him attractive. They were too close—too bare—for either of them to convincingly lie about what was happening.

He decided that it simply wasn’t worth the energy.

“ _Holy shit…_ ”

The blush on Sanji’s face darkened, coloring his pale skin a rosy pink and alerting the swordsman to the fact that he had unconsciously spoken aloud. The cook stiffened awkwardly under Zoro’s intense gaze, his hand twitching as he made to drop the blond fringe back into place. Without thinking, the swordsman captured the cook’s hand before it could descend, holding it gently in place to prevent him from covering the amazing view before Zoro had had his fill. He might never get another chance to see this, after all, so he couldn’t let the moment end too soon.

“Wait!” he said sharply, sliding his fingers further into the other man’s hair as he voiced the automatic command. His touch drew a stuttered breath out of the other man, who just stared at him with those gorgeous eyes as though Zoro’s sudden action had frozen him in place. “S-sorry,” Zoro told him apologetically. “I just…”

His words trailed off as Sanji dropped his hand, and suddenly neither of them could deny that this exchange had become mutual. The cook wasn’t pulling away—he was actually _allowing_ Zoro to touch him—and that, on top of the fact that the blond had been the one who’d initiated this reveal, proved that he was not the only one who was under the spell of whatever strange tension seemed to be drawing them together.

After what felt like an endless period of staring at one another in confused contemplation, Sanji managed to regain his speech long enough to reproach the other man. “Oi, you’re not supposed to  _like_ this,” he complained in an uncharacteristically soft tone.

Zoro’s blush deepened, and he instinctively tried to deny it. “I—I don’t! I’m just relieved that you weren’t hiding a normal eyebrow under there after all. That would’ve been even more ridiculous than them both being curly,” he rationalized, causing the cook’s eyes to narrow in suspicion. Sanji’s anger returned with a vengeance, and he responded with perhaps the last thing that Zoro expected him to say.

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” he growled, but there was undoubtedly an underlying hurt that his harsh words failed to hide. Zoro’s eyes widened impossibly larger at the pissed off cook’s retort, and he slowly retracted his hand, though Sanji’s hair remained swept back over his forehead. The swordsman let his guilt show on his face since he doubted that he was in any frame of mind to conceal it even if he’d wanted to.

“No…you’re right,” he said finally. “That was rude of me. I don’t—I mean, I like them, okay?”

“Just the eyebrows?” Sanji inquired wryly, causing the swordsman to finally break their gaze with a knowing smirk in response to the blond’s sudden change in attitude. There was something so distinctly playful about the question that instantly increased Zoro’s embarrassment ten-fold because despite the swordsman’s sometimes dense nature, he was sure that he detected a hint of _flirtatiousness_ in the cook’s voice.

 _What the hell? He can’t seriously be flirting with me right now. How am I supposed to respond to something like that?_ Zoro asked himself, too overcome with a sudden fit of nervous jitters to think of a clever comeback. Instead he studiously avoided the cook’s eyes, which caused Sanji to let out a pleased laugh, giving away the fact that he was obviously glad Zoro wasn’t falling back into their usual pattern of meaningless insults.

“They look fine. You…look good…I guess,” the swordsman managed to get out, rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture that similarly revealed his true feelings. “How the hell does your hair stay so perfect, though? You shouldn’t be able to just rearrange it however and just have it mold into that shape.  _That’s_  the weirdest part,” he rambled awkwardly, glancing away again when Sanji cracked an amused grin.

“You’re such an idiot,” he remarked fondly with a genuine smile, adding, "Thanks…I guess.”

Zoro frowned at him, still too embarrassed to make fun of the other man for getting soft on him of a sudden. “You’re welcome,” he replied offhandedly.

There was a distracting tension in the air that made the swordsman’s hair stand on end with anticipation, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint the cause. Despite the awkwardness of their conversation, Sanji was still holding his gaze even as they both flushed red. Zoro swallowed thickly, training his eye on the little crease that had formed between the cook’s curly eyebrows with growing curiosity—his expression was far too complicated for the straightforward swordsman to understand, but it was clear that Sanji was doing some serious thinking.

The moment stretched as they both attempted to figure out what was happening between them, but Zoro could hardly think at all with the captivating sight of the cook’s face so close to his. Suddenly, he realized that Sanji really was closer than usual—even closer than he had been a few seconds ago. They were unconsciously leaning towards one another as the silence became tangible, filling the crow’s nest like a mass of water weighing down on them, surrounding their bodies with a slowly increasing pressure that demanded they move closer.

Zoro couldn’t stop himself from looking at the cook’s mouth as his lips migrated within kissing range, teasing him with their proximity. Sanji probably hadn’t meant to get so close, but the swordsman had instinctively let his gaze drift to the other man’s approaching mouth, which caused a sharp wave of panic to wash over him when the cook’s lips parted in the tiniest gasp. Realization dawned on his face, changing his expression immeasurably, and suddenly his flushed cheeks and glazed eyes became an indication of something much less innocent than the earlier embarrassment.

He wasn’t moving away.

That fact struck the swordsman as impossible because he _knew_ that Sanji understood the meaning of his glance. There was no other way for that look to be interpreted in this situation—Zoro had been thinking about kissing him, and the cook knew it…so why wasn’t Zoro’s advance being immediately rejected? Why was Sanji just staring at him in silence, his eyes surprisingly serious as if he were _daring_ the swordsman to do it.

 _Hell, I think I’m drowning,_ Zoro thought absently, falling toward the cook’s blue eyes. He couldn’t stop himself from leaning across those final inches—couldn’t tear his gaze away from the gorgeous pools that were drawing him in—it was all happening too rapidly. He didn’t even care about the consequences because he wasn’t thinking about anything beyond the face in front of him, which had gone completely still as he slowly leaned towards the blond. Sanji showed no signs of wanting to retreat; in fact, his expression smoothed out as he continued staring, transfixed, at the swordsman’s face.

It was so surreal that Zoro felt like he was in a dream, which explained why he closed the remaining gap between them and pressed his lips against the cook’s without thinking. He expected there to be a pause, during which they would realize that they were _kissing_ and tense up in panic, but instead there was a clear moment of release, as if they’d both been cured of their restraint with the kiss. Sanji responded without hesitation, moving his lips over Zoro’s with a carnal hunger that surprised the swordsman and instantly set his skin on fire. Touching the cook seemed to have the contrasting effects of both soothing as well as inflaming the blaze, which quickly became like a fever making them half-delirious with passion.

Zoro threaded his fingers into blond hair, anchoring the other man in place as their kisses became rougher and more desperate. He wordlessly adjusted their positions on the bench, creating space between his legs, which the cook immediately filled with his slim frame. His hands were on the swordsman’s biceps, fingers digging into muscle with insistent pressure to force them closer together. Even chest to chest, Sanji didn’t seem satisfied. Once the cook literally climbed onto Zoro’s lap, the swordsman could no longer justify the layers of clothing that they were wearing. In the scramble to extricate themselves from the offending fabric, they relocated to the floor without exchanging a single word.

Once, Zoro had broken their kiss to ask what Sanji wanted to do, figuring that it was best to get the logistics out of the way before things got too heated, but it seemed like the blond was even further gone than he was. The only verbal instruction the swordsman received was to “shut up and do everything,” which pretty much solved the logistics problem. Zoro decided not to think about it from then on, choosing instead to pin a very naked Sanji against the workout mats and explore every inch of his porcelain skin with his lips, teeth, and tongue. He received a half-hearted smack in retribution for the bright-red hickey forming on the cook’s collar, which turned into a vice-like grip when Zoro responded by shoving his fingers into the one place that he was certain the cook had never been touched.

Sanji moaned, long and loud, as the swordsman distracted him from the uncomfortable preparation with a particularly thorough blowjob. Long fingers slipped into his green hair, carding through the short strands with occasional tugs that encouraged him to swallow deeper. Zoro really _did_ suspect that he had somehow fallen asleep and entered a dream because the cook insisted (rather violently) on returning the favor after the swordsman finished. As soon as he’d recovered from his orgasm, Sanji placed a foot on his shoulder without warning and kicked him onto his back. He was on top of the flustered man in seconds, taking his cock into his mouth without preamble despite never having touched another man’s dick before.

 The sight literally took Zoro’s breath away. He thought that absolutely nothing could be hotter than Sanji Blackleg on his knees. He couldn’t speak—couldn’t focus on anything besides the inside of the cook’s mouth, which was especially welcome because it had been _so long_ since the swordsman had gotten laid. The velvet-soft touch moving determinedly over his eager erection was like heaven to the sexually deprived swordsman, who found himself wondering in the moment if perhaps he was wrong to deny religion since it seemed like a perfectly reasonable explanation that the cook was in fact a particularly foul-mouthed angel taking pity on a lost soul.

Whatever the reason for Sanji’s sudden sexual interest in his rival, Zoro was not in any state of mind to question it. The cook and the swordsman’s relationship had always been predictable, but there was obviously something between them that both men had refused to acknowledge until this silly misunderstanding had uncovered a mutual attraction.

 _We’ve wasted so much time,_ Zoro thought regretfully. He wished he’d had that stupid dream sooner, but he also didn’t want to change anything that had happened because it had led to this—to the swordsman sitting in the crow’s nest with Sanji’s lean body nestled between his legs, sucking him off like he did it everyday. The cook seemed to have completely given in to his carnal desires, gazing up at Zoro’s panting face with an expression akin to someone in a trance. He gave no commands, asked for nothing, and generally let his instincts simply guide him as they each followed their basic instincts.

Sanji’s first verbal reaction came in response to the swordsman’s hesitant fingers threading into his hair, warning him that Zoro’s orgasm was approaching. He paused in his diligent task, releasing the throbbing cock and looking him straight in the eyes, face flushed with the heat of his own arousal.

“Now?” he asked breathlessly, which should have been vague but was somehow perfectly clear to the swordsman.

“Yeah,” he replied, just as breathless. Zoro wordlessly got to his feet and retrieved a bottle of lubricant from his locker, returning to the workout mats and crouching behind the kneeling cook. Sanji’s body immediately became tense as the other man met him from behind, prompting Zoro to drop an uncharacteristically gentle kiss on his neck, pressing his lips against the flushed skin in a reassuring gesture while quickly uncapping the lube and reaching around to coat the cook’s erection with the slippery substance.

Sanji sighed gratefully, his back curving to accommodate the swordsman as he slowly moved his wet fingers to the cook’s opening. Perhaps it was just the anticipation, but Zoro swore that the heat inside of Sanji had increased, causing his own erection to twitch as it became painfully hard. He rushed to slick himself up, not even bothering to make sure that he wasn’t wasting the lube and spilling it all over, before unceremoniously thrusting his cock past the first ring of muscle.

The cook gasped as Zoro entered him, his muscles contracting deliciously around the head as a long shudder briefly overwhelmed his senses. He remained absolutely silent as the swordsman carefully seated himself inside except for the sound of his focused breathing. The silence was broken by Sanji suddenly crying out in pleasant surprise when the swordsman’s practice thrusts stimulated his prostrate for the first time.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” he hissed quietly, but it sounded less like a curse and more like a prayer. Zoro took that as a good sign and began thrusting deeper, dragging a series of uninhibited moans out of the enlightened cook. As soon as Sanji figured out how good it felt to have the swordsman moving inside him, he began to rock his hips in in sync with the other man, encouraging him to move faster until neither of them could hold back any longer.

Zoro quickly discovered that Sanji was hottest when he was making noise—there was something so utterly satisfying about hearing the smart-mouthed cook’s gasps and moans in response to Zoro’s touch, so it became the swordsman’s mission to find the position that would make the blond scream the loudest. Then there was the dilemma of wanted to kiss him but _not_ wanting to prevent him from making those sounds, so he kissed him everywhere else instead.

Sanji’s long limbs wrapped around the swordsman as he continued thrusting into the cook with increasingly erratic motions, marvelling at the slimmer man’s flexibility as Zoro guided him onto his back and essentially folded him in half. When their orgasms hit, the swordsman was sure that the entire ship must have heard them, but he didn’t have the presence of mind to stifle any sounds they made. Instead, he got to witness Sanji at his most vulnerable—hair swept back to reveal two blue eyes, clouded with pleasure, mouth wide as he cried out and came violently between them, and all the while gripping the swordsman with clawed hands that left bloody scratches along his smooth back.

They collapsed with Zoro still inside, not even bothering to untangle their limbs until their racing hearts and laboured breathing slowly returned to normal. The silence that followed was agonizing, the air thick with tension and unspoken thoughts that were clearly occupying both of their minds. Almost a full ten minutes had passed before Zoro finally mustered up the courage to ask, “Oi, cook…what the hell? I never would have expected you to  _like_ that.”

What he also meant, though, was that he would never have expected Sanji to be so open about his desires. Although he hadn’t actually admitted to wanting to have sex with the swordsman, his body had made his enjoyment perfectly clear, and that was something that Zoro still couldn’t believe even though he’s just seen it with his own eyes.

Sanji sucked in a breath, no doubt preparing to justify his actions to minimize the shame of submitting to his feelings for his crewmate, and suddenly Zoro realized that what he _really_ wanted from the cook—more than nakamaship, more than sex even—was for Sanji to just be honest with him. All they ever did was pretend. They pretended to hate each other, always acting like petty children and never saying what they truly felt, because the other option was utter embarrassment—God forbid two badass pirates admit to having actual human emotions that didn’t involve vengeance or competition.

Before Sanji could answer him with what would inevitably be some sort of half-assed excuse that neither of them believed anyway, Zoro tightened his grip around the cook’s torso, turning a haphazard pile of limbs into a real embrace.

“Don’t lie,” he whispered, refusing to loosen his hold on the other man despite the way he tensed at the swordsman’s words.

“Okay,” Sanji told him quietly, relaxing into the other man’s arms and taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. “I…I liked it a lot,” he said finally, face flaming. Zoro released him instantly, turning the cook toward him so that he could see the swordsman openly grinning.

“Me too. We’ll have to do it again sometime…” he suggested with a smirk.

“…or a lot of times,” Sanji replied slyly before extricating himself from the swordsman. They redressed in silence, but the air no longer felt heavy or stifling. In fact, the casual way in which they parted felt as though nothing had changed. The only indication Zoro had, proving that all of this hadn’t been another crazy dream, came the next morning when he was doing his usual reps on the deck of the Sunny.

During a particularly intimate moment in which the rest of their crewmates were busy enjoying the nice weather, oblivious to the locked gazes of the cook and the swordsman, Sanji nearly caused him to drop his weight because of the knowing smile on his face—Zoro felt himself flushing as the other man’s gaze raked over his naked chest, glistening with sweat in the summer heat, and then his mind literally short-circuited when the cook licked his lips like he was looking at an ice cream cone and contemplating how delicious it would taste. Before anybody could notice the heated expressions on their faces, Sanji disappeared into the galley.

“Hey, Zoro? Can I ask you a personal question? I’m a little worried,” Chopper said suddenly, capturing everyone’s attention immediately despite his soft, respectful tone. The entire crew except for the cook was present for the little reindeer's next words, which quite possible stopped Zoro’s heart for the duration of the stunned silence that followed. “It’s just…I don’t remember those scratches on your back from yesterday. They look fresh. Something like that could get infected if you don’t take care of it right away! I’m your doctor—I need to know when you’re injured so I can give you the correct treatment.”

“…”

“What’s he talking about, Zoro?” Nami demanded, eying his frozen form suspiciously. When he flat-out refused to answer, she bribed Luffy and the others into chasing him down and forcing him to show his back to the concerned doctor. The women, however, were not nearly as naïve as the younger men on their crew. “Is that what I think it is?! But we haven’t been to a port in three days…”

The observant navigator did not miss the flash of panic that Zoro quickly attempted to disguise with an angry glare. She turned her suspicious gaze to the only other woman on the ship, but Robin was already laughing quietly in a way that was not particularly incriminating. “I would certainly remember doing something like _that_ ,” she told Nami slyly, making her denial clear.

“Well, it sure as hell wasn’t me! Are you seriously suggesting that Zoro fucked somebody _else_ on this crew?!” she asked incredulously, to which the rest of their crewmates collectively shouted in surprise.

“ _What?_ Zoro had sex with someone on the crew?! I—I know I’m a liar, but I _swear_ it wasn’t me!” Usopp announced, turning to Luffy for barely a second before adding, “No way it could’ve been you, Luffy. You’re too pure to be corrupted—even by your first mate.”

“But who...” Nami’s words trailed off as the galley door swung open and everyone turned to stare directly at the approaching cook. Sanji took three strides and stopped, looking around at the mixture of shock, skepticism, and dawning realization on the faces of his nakama.

“Oi, I made you all drinks, so why the hell are you looking at me like I’m holding a bunch of severed heads?” he asked them in confusion.

“YOU HAD SEX WITH ZORO?!” Usopp shouted without a second thought.

The tray of drinks slipped from the cook’s hands and clattered to the deck, glasses shattering between the cook’s frozen feet. There was a very, very long and uncomfortable pause followed by Sanji’s deceptively calm reply of, “…Excuse me for a minute.” He walked straight towards the swordsman, who was still in a borderline catatonic state between their nosy nakama, but the ominous sound of the cook’s approaching footsteps snapped him out of it.

“H--hold on a minute,” he said quickly, holding up his hands in a placating gesture.

“Alright… _one_ minute—make it count, because it’ll be your last,” Sanji growled threatening.

“Cook, I didn’t—”

“57…56…”

“Don’t be mad at Zoro, Sanji! It was my fault for asking questions about the scratches,” Chopper explained woefully, seeming to understand that his concern had accidentally revealed his crewmates’ secret. The cook instantly went pale, his gaze turning on the swordsman with daggers in his eye.

“You fucking _idiot!_ Couldn’t you have gone a few days without stripping in the middle of the goddamn deck?!” he screeched, yanking at his blond hair in frustration.

“I’m sorry! I forgot—”

“Oh, you _forgot?!_ That’s not fucking good enough, bastard! I’ll KILL you!”

“Relax, Sanji-kun," Nami said placatingly. "I’m sure everybody’s surprised, but like, not _that_ surprised. I mean, the two of you are sort of…”

Zoro didn’t think it was possible, but the cook actually went even paler after hearing those words from one of his precious ladies. A strangled noise left his lips and he hung his head in his hands, mumbling, “Please don’t say anymore, Nami-san. That shitty-swordsman and I are complete opposites—not even _we_ saw this coming,” he lamented.

“Actually, I predicted that the two of you would become lovers the day I joined the crew.”

“Robin!” Zoro groaned, mimicking Sanji’s face-in-hands gesture.

“Don’t just rebuke her—tell her it isn’t true!” Sanji wailed, gripping the swordsman by the shoulders and jolting him as if he could actually shake some sense into the other man. Zoro avoided his eyes and stayed silent, unable to bring himself to come up with another pointless excuse. The truth was that he was actually a little bit proud of what they’d done. He didn’t want to lie about something that meant so much to him—because it did, and he wasn’t about to pretend otherwise…not this time.

“Cook-san, don’t you think you’re being a little hard on him? It was _your_ fingernails that left incriminating evidence in the first place,” Robin reminded him with a devious grin.

Sanji just stared at Zoro’s unwavering expression, seeming to realize that the swordsman wasn’t going to act like nothing had happened after all. Slowly, he relaxed his grip on the other man and let out a long, defeated sigh.

“…It couldn’t be helped,” he said quickly, his face flushing with embarrassment as he finally gave in and made the admission. “I’m a pirate—I don’t have time to trim my nails and file them down everyday! It’s not like they’ll scar or anything, so it’s not even a big deal. Besides, this is between Zoro and I anyway, so everybody should mind their own business and never speak of this again,” he rambled nervously, surprising the swordsman with his sudden change in attitude.

“Do you really think our crewmates are capable of minding their own business?” Zoro asked him rhetorically.

“Dammit—why did you do this to me, moss-head?!”

“I’m not sure I did anything.”

“Except Sanji, shishishishi!”

“You are _so_ lucky that rubber isn’t edible, you loud-mouthed little shit!”

“Wait, you actually understand what’s going on, Luffy?!” Nami asked him in disbelief.

“Of course! I don’t think I’ll ever be as loud as you guys—I could hear you both from all the way in the kitchen!”

“Oh no, I think Sanji’s about to pass out! Somebody, get him to a doctor!”

“You’re the doctor, Chopper.”

“Maybe you _should_ treat these scratches,” Zoro said to the little reindeer. “They’re starting to itch, and who knows where that pervert-cook’s hands have been.”

“I know wher—oompfh! Hey, that hurt, Sanji!”

“The next person who mentions my sex-life will eat nothing but raw ingredients for a month—and _no meat,_ only soy products.”

“NOOOO! Okay, I’ll shut up—I’m sorry, Sanji. Please don’t take away my meat!”

“Good choice, captain. Now _behave_ while I remake everyone’s drinks.”

Zoro watched the two men bicker until Sanji finally escaped into the galley to finish the refreshments. He sat with the rest of the crew, feeling a distinct sense of dé-jà vu because of his earlier obsession with the dream that had started this all. He didn’t have any reason to dwell on it any longer, and thankfully he didn’t have to. Now, whenever the cook came out of the galley, Zoro never noticed his eyebrows because he only saw his rival—his nakama…his lover…his Sanji.

 

** End **

** **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This image was originally found on Pinterest at https://www.pinterest.ca/pin/496733033886455580/

**Author's Note:**

> The lovely drawing is by Excel-K on Deviant Art. Find more wonderful fanart here :)  
> https://excel-k.deviantart.com/art/Zoro-and-Sanji-216540565


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